Vikings versus child
by Ruler of the Fake Empire
Summary: Ever wonder how Iceland came into the care of the Nordics? This is the story, includes fluffiness and smiles and an adorable kid. Be prepared for how the Nordics tried to raise a kid.


Translations:

Käre gud=dear god

Gullunge=sweet child

Norway knocked pointedly on the door. He had attempted very valiantly to get his long blond hair out of his face by tying it behind his head with a piece of string, but still loose threads escaped his knots, only to fall in front of ice blue eyes. Viking braids hung down behind his ears, his face set in stone like a statue of bronze and diamond. A cloak covered his shoulders, warm sheep's wool pressed his skin against the harsh winter that plagued his lands. He had long sacrificed his shirt to the child that clung worriedly to his pant leg, his head barely reaching the viking's hip, hiding fearfully under his cloak. The child was small and silver haired. Striking violet eyes stood out on pale skin.

"Secret knock!" A joyous voice called out. The child jumped and hid instinctively behind Norway's legs. The Viking looked down at him curiously and patted his silver head.

"Shut up, Den. It's Norge, open up" a smaller, but not less firm voice came from within the house. Norway did nothing, but raise a ridiculing eyebrow and cross his arms across his chest. The door swung open and the child peeked out from behind the viking's legs to see who was standing in the doorway. A tall man stood there. Taller than Norway, but in no way more fearsome. Blue eyes made of ice glared into ones of the sea.

"Get out of the way, Denmark" he growled, his voice low and dangerous, venom in every word. He had had a very bad day and was in no mood to deal with anyone's antics. With a brisk smile the tall man decidedly named Denmark moved aside and Norway marched into his home, swiftly bending and picking up the child, who immediately clung to his neck.

"Käre gud" he head a voice mutter. He was, of courses, aquatinted with Sweden's mutterings, but the sound of the under lying shock was almost a surprise within itself. He turned and looked at the long man sitting on their battered and almost broken sofa. A book sat forgotten in his hands, intelligent turquoise eyes trained on the child in Norway's arm. He tried to bury himself under Norway's cloak, trying desperately to escape the gaze of the long, frightening man.

Another, smaller man, was also staring at the boy, only this gaze only a little darker than the boys own. Mauve to violet. The second man stood in the door way, a look of surprise obvious on his little heart shaped face. He would of looked harmless had he not had bloodied arrows strapped to his back and six rabbits for dinner skinned in his hand.

"Norge, who on earth is that? You can't just go around picking up kids, put him back!" Obviously Finland had assumed that Norge had simply found a child and decided to take him home, this was not the case and Norge scowled to show it.

"He is my brother" he growled as the child buried his nose into his collar bone, shivering. Norway's shirt was slipping off his thin shoulders and he was cold and he was scared and the tall man from the door was coming up behind them. "And his name is Iceland"

"Norge, you can't go around decided children are your brother, either. His parents will be in fits" Fin was very valiantly sticking by his decision that Norge was obviously off his rocker.

"Our are parents dead, that is why he is here. My mama was swollen with 'im when I left, he was sent to me when they died. I will look after him" it seemed that the great Viking nation had made his decision. Denmark placed his hand on Norge's shoulder and peered daftly at the child who shook under his stare.

"He's adorable, kinda looks like you too. So cute" it was quite clear that Denmark had become infatuated with the child. He must of only seen him at a smaller, differently coloured version of Norway. Norge immediately swung away from him, an unfamiliar protectiveness roaring up inside of him.

"You come near him and I'll skin you alive"

"Dose tha' men he's like ya?" Sweden's words echoed around the room, firm and unreadable as usual. Neither of the other men had thought of that. Norge's powers that vaguely resembled England's was rarely a topic in their household, but if they were related, then what would that mean?

"Yes, that's how I knew it was him" Norge quietly put the child down on the ground as reluctant as Iceland was to be abandoned once again. He stood on the cold ground, almost pouting. Violet eyes blinked at his surroundings. "I'm going to have a bath, look after Ice" the boy reached out for his brother's cloak, but it slipped through his small fingers. His eyes widened as the door to the corridor slammed at he was left alone. He let out a silent yell of panic, before turning fearfully to the three men, tears pricking in his eyes.

The tallest man, the one who had been on the sofa, had moved to stand in front of the fire. He was covered in scars. Ones that scraped down his arms and under his shirt. The other tall man was walking slowly towards him, bent slightly, a hungry expression on his face. The smaller man, the one with the rabbits was also inching towards him, looking more like he wanted to catch the child rather than eat him. He had blood on his hands.

The child attempted to back away from them, but only found himself backing up to a wall. His small frantic heart beat fast in his little chest. They were getting closer, by the second. Acting on instinct the child rushed forward, between them. He scrambled over an already splintered coffee table and hid behind the tallest man's legs. The men looked surprised, but he didn't care. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go home, he wanted his mama. As far as he was concerned the tallest man was the safest option by a long shot.

"Wha' 're ya doin'?" The tall man looked down at him, curiously. At least Iceland figured it was curiosity. He shook his head frantically, more worried about the other two men than the man that his big brother called Sweden. He whimpered a little as he leaned down and lifted the child up under his armpits. Norge's shirt went on well past his little feet and Sweden could see tears in the corners of his round eyes. The boy was terrified. "We'r no' gonna hur' ya, child" Sweden set the kid on the ground and knelt so that they were vaguely level, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this close to the ground. He held out his large hand to the boy who stared at it like it was some foreign object unknown to him. "I'm Sve" the child slowly and hesitantly put his own hand into the Sweden's, his terror slightly residing. The child's hand looked so tiny next to his own. "Do ya speak, child?" He asked carefully. The boy gave him a look that he seemed to understand. "Don' worry none, gullunge. Ya wil' be fin'" Sve patted his silver head and sat down on the floor. He crossed his legs and pulled Iceland into his lap. He swiftly collected his carving knife and a piece of wood from beside the fire and began to slowly carve. The child didn't react in the slightest to the knife, but he was fascinated with Sve's whittling. He watched in silence as the simple block of wood slowly became something else entirely, safely encased in warm arms, until he dropped off to sleep.

...

When the child awoke again he was no longer encased in arms, instead he was encased in blankets, many blankets. He burst upward, too hot to stay still. One of the walls shuddered with the great winds bashing against it. It unsettled him that outside was so panicked and inside was calm and still.

Wide violet eyes darted around the room that seemed to resemble a bedroom. Norge's sword sat on the dresser, and his cloak was thrown over a chair by the bed. The rest was lost in the dim. A blue light was cast over the space he could see from an unknown source.

He didn't understand how he had arrived in the room, but he knew that he didn't want to be there. Beside him his older brother slept soundly, long blond hair splayed out across a pillow, Viking braids ever present. In his sleep his scowl had melted off his face and all that was left was his face, expressionless and calm.

The child slipped out of bed only to misjudge the distance and end up falling down on his knees with a complementary "oomph". He stood, noticing that he could only just peer over the bed.

He shivered, he still only wore Norge's thin shirt. He reached up with little hands and dragged a quilt from the bed, falling back briefly and landing on his bottom, much to his dissatisfaction. He stood and wrapped the quilt over his head and around his shoulders. He waddled like a little violet eyed ghost to the door and looked up at the door handle. After some complicated manoeuvring he managed to get the door open, struggling with his small hands and wee size. Before he ventured out into the cold corridor he looked back at his brother, still sleeping soundly, unaware that his younger brother was on the move. Iceland quickly returned to the bed, on his brother's side this time. He peered at his sleeping form, heavy breathing filling sensitive ears. A small slightly glowing finger tip reached out and prodded his soft forehead. As soon as if drew back a little blue opal followed. It sparkled and changed colour as Ice moved it in his hand. It was smooth all over and the most lovely colour. The boy smiled at his new found treasure and made his way out of the room, his brother never stirring.

Surprisingly, he found the tall man from the door curled up outside his big brother's door. He was snoring loudly and clinging to his battle axe like it was a teddy bear. The child crouched down no longer scared. He prodded yet another forehead and gained another jewel, this one a red jade. Dark red and soft. He smiled again, delighted with his growing collection. He moved on, quilt dragging behind him.

Denmark felt something brush against his hand and the soft padding of footsteps. His eyes blinked open and he forced himself the focus on the small figure moving down the corridor. The first thought that popped into his mind was largely centred around the fact that there was ghost moving down with corridor. Then the "spirit" sneezed and Den remembered the child that Norge had brought home the day before. The child that he had put to bed and had sat with Sve.

The child moved quickly, opening a door seemingly at random and peering in. He saw the kids wide eyes and round face. He looked curious. He stood slightly, abandoning his axe on the floor as the child slipped into Sve and Fin's room. He came back a few minutes later and Den darted behind the corner so that he wouldn't be seen. He peeked around the wall and looked down at the child. He was looking at something in his palm. He seemed immensely pleased with himself and whatever was in his little hand.

The child held his jewels to his chest and wandered towards the other end of the corridor. He was hungry, really hungry. He managed to get to the living room before giving up and sitting down. He sat on uncertainly in front the glowing fire. It wasn't flickering anymore, but it was still warm. He rocked his head from side to side, an unknown rhythm in his head. He played happily with his jewels. There were four in total and all different in colours. Norge's was blue. The man from the door's was red. Sve's was green. And the rabbit man's was purple. They were all dark and interesting. He moved them around his palm.

Suddenly something dropped into his lap. He jumped and looked up. The tall man was there, grinning down at him. He looked strangely happy to see the boy, whereas the child was almost shaking with fear.

"Dinner" he said, smiling widely and the child looked down into his lap. Bread and a little cheese. The boy immediately lightened, deciding that the man couldn't possibly be a threat if he brought anything edible. The man sat down next to him, with some food if his own. They sat in silence. Both greedily eating. "You planning on sticking around kid? Or are you gonna make a runner?" He spoke with a harsh friendly accent, a grin ever present in his voice.

Ice shrugged.

"Dunno, if ya got food maybe" he nibbled on his bread.

"We got a lot of food. Don't ya worry, mouse. Ya make Norge happy so you'll always be welcome here" Den slapped him on the back and he spluttered upon the impact. The child shrugged again.

"You're annoying"

Author's notes:

Well, this was fun. I saw a picture on the Internet and it got me thinking about how Ice came to be with the Nordic's given that he's younger than all of them. I really hope you enjoyed reading this.

Much love,

Clementine


End file.
